


Touch

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Series: October Fic Fest [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Angst, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Friendship/Love, Honor, Hurt, Love, Marriage, Men of Letters, Men of Letters Bunker, Moral Dilemmas, Morality, One Shot, One Shot Collection, POV Josie Sands, Romance, Temptation, Tragic Romance, Unrequited, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's getting harder and harder for the only Woman of Letters, Josie Sands, to hide her feelings for Henry Winchester the longer they undergo training together. No, Henry isn't likely to turn to her. And she knows she can't love him that way if he sought her flesh while tied to a wife and baby. Part of Josie loathes the honor and duty coursing through them both. Those were ingredients in the spell Henry put on her, yet those were the elements keeping them from touching each other too. But, God help her, Josie would fully surrender if only to feel like she belonged to Henry for a moment. She wouldn't regret it, not like he inevitably would. Instead, she'd live on it for the rest of her life. This is the story of a woman loving from a distance and doing the right thing no matter how much it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

May 1956

A library was the worst possible place to be shackled to Henry Winchester for research, Josie thought miserably, sitting across a smooth tabletop from the noble creature. She stuck a pencil into her ponytail, sitting high, red, and curly on the crown of her head, and snapped her notebook shut. It was painful seated across from him close enough to breathe his unobtrusive but familiar cologne and she wanted to trade tables with someone, anyone.

Josie glanced around the Men of Letters bunker library, the only woman in a sea of men all dressed in such similar dull suits that they might as well have been cookie cutter copies. Only Henry bothered to peel off his suit jacket and roll up his white shirt sleeves to his elbows. He was as much of a realist as he was an intelligent ... aristocrat. Yes, there was something old world about him. Honor.

Annoyed with herself for staring instead of seeking out a less distracting place to work, Josie rubbed her hands over the thighs of her high-waisted jeans in a nervous gesture. She looked around again. Heads bent and pages shuffling, each man remained absorbed in his work. They were all apprentices studying to be initiated into the Men of Letters. She and Henry had advanced together not long before, finally allowed to study in the bunker, to live in the barracks if they chose. While she had no family to speak of, no place to go, Henry had a wife and baby in Illinois that had him driving across Missouri every two weeks to be with them. Duty. Honor.

Quiet and hoping he wouldn't notice her slip away, Josie began to gather her things. Henry suddenly thwapped the book before him and it startled her. She nearly dropped her own armload of books.

"Found it, Jo," he muttered.

Using the nickname he'd been calling her for the better part of a year had her drooping into her chair again. She nearly sighed aloud. The way his mouth curled around the single syllable of that nickname tethered her to their shared table like a damned spell. That's what it was--Henry had bewitched her. A flame of irrational anger curled up her belly.

"What'd you find, then?" she asked gamely, hoping nothing showed.

Henry's eyes lifted from the book to her face. "Are you all right?"

Damn it. "I'm fine," she lied. "Just very tired. Nonstop studying ancient texts will do that to you, I guess."

"Hmm." A slow, thoughtful nod bobbed Henry's head. Shrugging, he looked down at the book again. "I managed to translate this spell here. It's in Aramaic, not Latin, and that's where they were getting stalled all this time. Hopefully this won't pigeonhole me in the archives because I'll lose my mind if they put me there. I'm good at translation but not spellwork."

"Oh, I doubt that. I think they've got you pegged for field assignments. You'll get to travel." As soon as Josie said it, she knew it was wrong. Field assignments were great unless the Man of Letters had a wife and baby waiting for him. She covered over the idea. "I think the elders have been watching you work, which typically means you're on the road to better things than dusty libraries. You'll get to make a difference. And I think you are good at spellwork."

"It's the hunters who get all the glory," Henry replied, shrugging, "not that I'm interested in being one of those mindless apes but I have been wondering how much of a difference we are making by observing while not touching." He slipped a page from his notes into a thick book of collected biblical period spells, marking his place, and closed it. "What would you think, Jo, of getting out of the bunker for a while? Recharge our souls."

"What? We can't leave." Together, she wanted to say. We can't leave together. The other men--they might guess and they'd know she wrestled every day with her feelings for him.

Henry pushed back from the table, standing impossibly tall and stretching from side to side. "Sure we can. We've been studying since daylight. This is what I propose. We'll go get something to eat, see a movie that has absolutely nothing to do with magic or monsters, and then we'll come back ready for more studying. My brain needs a rest. I don't think I can fit one more Aramaic word into my cranium." He tapped his left temple and grinned down at her. "You obviously need a break too."

"I do," she admitted.

"Great!" It appeared decided to Henry. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, making more than one man in the library jump and look their way.

Well, Josie's plan to put distance between herself and Henry failed miserably and it was almost laughable. She shoved a hand through her hair, hitting the pencil forgotten in her ponytail as she wound her way back to her quarters in the bunker. The elders thought putting a woman in the barracks filled by men was a bad idea and that led to a hastily furnished single room on the complete opposite side of the residence for her. It was so cold and prison-like with a bathroom sink and medicine cabinet in the same room where she slept. She knew she really had to be passionate about her work to live that way.

She managed to find some pieces of furniture here and there--estate sales mostly--to make the place less sterile. Of course Henry had rolled up his sleeves and rounded up a few other apprentices to arrange her room while she stood in the hallway desperately thinking about everything except him sliding the mattress into place on her bed or piecing together drawers in her armoire meant for delicates.

Josie opened that same armoire and eyed her narrow selection of clothes. She didn't have much since she was there to focus on her studies but she couldn't go to dinner and a movie wearing worn out high-waisted jeans and a plaid button-down shirt knotted to show her abdomen. It felt too much like a date. Maybe not to Henry but to her. Leaning against the closet door, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, which did little to calm her nerves. The cool fabric of her gray satin dress brushed her cheek from where it hung limp and lifeless on the hanger. As she changed her clothes, she considered backing out of Henry's plan for some fun. A stomach ache ought to be enough to deter him from dragging her out of the bunker with him, but then he'd probably try to mix up a potion to heal her illness. He was just so damned helpful like that.

Once she changed her clothes, swapping worn everyday attire for a crinoline and silk, she moved to the medicine cabinet mirror over her bathroom sink. Brushing out her red hair made it look too smooth, too glossy, like she was trying too hard. With a sigh, she twisted her hair up into a more sensible roll. Then she reached for her lipstick but put the red down again, deciding bright pink was more cheerful and friendly than sultry red. Yes, she knew she was trying too hard to hide herself but it was necessary to protect her friendship with Henry. It was better than no Henry at all, which is what would happen if he knew. At the last second, Josie grabbed a string of small pearls to maybe distract from the way her dress cut lower than she wanted. It didn't help much.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she gave up on trying to construct an image of happy friendship and flung open the door to her quarters. There Henry stood, leaning one shoulder against the wall with his hands casually tucked into his pockets. He grinned at her and swept his head to one side.

"It appears you had the same idea I did," he said.

"What?"

Henry tipped his chin at her dress. "You're tired of the same old, same old here."

"Oh...." She smiled self-consciously, touching her hair. "Well, the only place we could grab a bite to eat the way I was dressed was a burger joint. So I just...."

"Good thinking. Come on, then. Let us abscond into the night to fill our bellies and entertain our minds." He pushed off the wall and offered his elbow with a playful, antiquated flourish. "I was thinking steak and potatoes. Something hot and satisfying. What about you? Hungry?"

"Famished," replied Josie, careful to sidestep his provocative vocabulary.

They checked out one of the cars in the bunker's garage. Henry signed the clipboard and pulled his sleeve back to carefully note the time on his wristwatch. Looking back at the pristine vehicles lined up in marked parking spaces told Josie the escape plan was going to be documented. That sheet snapped into the clipboard would eventually go into the archives, which were as pristine as each vehicle there over her shoulder, and future Men of Letters would see the time a Man and Woman of Letters left the bunker together one May night in 1956. An acid taste rose up from her stomach. It was like preserving her very personal sense of guilt to be gawked at and gossiped about later by people who weren't even born yet.

For Henry's part, he dropped the clipboard and it dangled from a rope on the wall, and he made his way to the car he selected. There was an innocent bounce in his step and he whistled something Josie vaguely recognized as she followed. Like any man, he seemed overjoyed to be behind the wheel of a great car again--apparently a dark blue Cadillac. As he turned to open the door, she saw him grinning at the vehicle like a long lost friend.

They set off into the night. Henry maneuvered the Cadillac through dirt roads between corn fields with the sort of innocent exuberance of a boy. Comfortable silence settled between them, only interrupted by the low hum of the car radio and the rush of late spring wind when Henry rolled down his window. Driving in the dark allowed Josie the little luxury of peering over at him from the passenger seat without being noticed. He drove with his right hand on the wheel and his left elbow resting on the seam of the car door and the window, arm folded inward. A finger lazily slid back and forth over his faint stubble and his bottom lip as his mind worked, always worked, through so many open files of unsolved cases. He once told her puzzling things out in quiet moments exercised his brain and calmed him through bouts of uncertainty. Was he uncertain in that moment? He hadn't bothered wearing a tie, she noticed in an errant glance down at the skin peeking out from a white shirt with three buttons undone. That kind of casual attitude didn't suggest uncertainty, nor did the loose state of his long limbs.

Focus on the road. Stop gawking. Josie toyed with the string of pearls around her throat in a sudden need to busy her hands. She sighed, grateful for the engine's rumble and the band music on the radio making it impossible to listen too closely to her own thoughts.

"Have you got any idea what movie you want to see?" Josie asked to fill the gaping silence in her brain.

Henry shook his head. "I've been so buried in ancient texts that I don't even know what movies they've made since ... gosh, since January. Has it really been that long since they moved us to the bunker?"

"Yes," she replied. "Advancing this far requires intense study without distraction."

"That it does. I'll be glad when we return to Illinois next month."

"So will I." That wasn't entirely true. She didn't have the family life Henry did, so it really didn't matter where she laid her head down at night. "How's Millie?"

"She's coping. John's been giving her trouble. I know she's looking forward to me being home more than a few days at a time to help with our boy. That's the awful thing about being a legacy, I suppose. The Men of Letters has to take precedence over everything, even our wives and children, but we're the ones left to sweep up the consequences of such commitment." Henry leaned forward in the seat and adjusted his position, reminding Josie of his back injury from last year during defensive combat training. "Sometimes my job feels like the mistress in my marriage."

Josie choked and thought she'd swallow her own tongue but recovered herself quickly with only a curious glance from him. "I know--I know it must be difficult for you to be away from home so much," she stammered.

Silence cloaked Henry for a long moment. She didn't notice it at first until the lack of response became a vacuum over there in the driver's seat.

"Henry?"

"I don't feel as guilty as I should," he mumbled.

"What?"

Again, he shifted in his seat quite absently as if he'd long since learned to cope with the pain of his back injury. "I said ... I said I don't feel as guilty as I should. About Millie. About not being at home."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

She closed her eyes for a strengthening moment, the question poised on the tip of her tongue. "Do you mean you're unhappy?"

He hesitated, thinking. "No, not exactly. Millie's a good wife. I love my son beyond all description. It's just that when I'm here doing my work, I feel like I'm doing something of value and I'm with other people who are like me. A good wife is one thing but Millie can never understand my work, nor does she have a desire to understand it so long as I provide for her." The finger began rubbing his lip in that slow absent habit signaling Henry's deep thought processes again. "It's an important thing being among people who are like you, who understand you because they share the same life."

"Sounds like you're a bit torn," Josie murmured quietly, looking out of her window.

"Maybe I am," he said just as quietly.

It was tolerable to hand Henry over to another woman every couple of weeks under the assumption that she made him blissfully happy. That was what he deserved. But to hear that he was torn between the two factions of his life--that burned in her chest like a ball of fire that she had to keep swallowing every time she saw him. He drove on toward the city lights on the horizon and she let her forehead rest on the cold glass of her window. It couldn't go on that way.

"Oh, I wasn't counting on this," Henry said, rolling up his window.

Josie opened her eyes and pushed herself back into her body after the brief respite. Streaks of rain snaked down the Cadillac's windows until he turned a knob and sent windshield wipers sweeping back and forth over the glass. By the time Henry found a place to park a block away from the restaurant, the rain came down in sheets.

He grinned over at Josie. "We'll have to make a run for it."

"Ready?" she asked, infected by his smile.

"Wait." A great deal of wriggling and shuffling ensued as Henry struggled to peel off his suit jacket in the car. "Here. It'll keep you somewhat dry and warm."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

And then his jacket was tucked around her shoulders before she could escape the car. Surrounded by the ghosts of his warmth and his scent, Josie emerged into the rain, head ducked from the rain and trailing his shape down the sidewalk. They came to a street corner and paused for the traffic to pass while streaks of rainwater dragged down the careful smoothness of his hair. He looked left and right, reaching for her hand to keep them linked in the street traffic. They bolted across the street toward the restaurant, laughing as the weather battered her makeup and his suit.

Reaching the double awning over the restaurant doors didn't help a thing anymore. They were soaked--Henry more than Josie since his old world nature made him give up his jacket for the lady. They paused under the awning to shake out the weather but catching a glimpse of the other, they burst into laughter. She'd never seen Henry so disheveled and she knew her makeup was probably sliding down her face. Without pomade to reign in his hair anymore, little bits of it curled around his forehead.

"Well, we've made a pig's ear of this," Josie laughed.

He tilted his head. "A pig's ear?" As he spoke, he opened the door for her.

"Remind me to teach you Kentucky phrases one day," she replied as she swept inside with a pat on his wet arm.

"Oh yes," he said, "I forgot you're from Southern people."

"The accent had to go before I joined the order. Nobody takes a Kentucky girl seriously if she speaks like a sharecropper, least of all the greatest theological scholars of our generation," she explained. Reluctantly, she swept his jacket off her shoulders and gave it back to him with the secret hope that his cologne might linger on her skin.

"You are a great theological scholar, Jo." With that, he flashed an encouraging sort of smile.

Led to a burgundy upholstered booth by a hostess, Josie made sure to keep respectable distance between them as they were given leather folding menus. She felt better in a crowded restaurant where no one looked too close. The constant threat of exposure among the Men of Letters wound tension so tight at the base of her neck that she often went to bed with headaches. Among strangers, she could assume the role of a friend or a sister without worry of them seeing through her. She smiled into her menu, relieved and feeling the possibility creeping in that she could just be, to enjoy her break from studying for her initiation.

True to his word, Henry ordered a sirloin steak, medium rare, with a mound of mashed potatoes and green beans coated in some kind of thin dressing. He told Josie to order whatever she wanted no matter the cost, but when she saw lobster based in "market prices" on the menu, she couldn't make herself take money away from Millie and sweet baby John. Roast chicken with celery dressing and cranberry sauce seemed much more affordable and not like a woman taking advantage of the undivided attention from another woman's husband.

Over a bottle of red wine and delicious food, Josie let herself slide into the illusion that she was content with her lot in life. She laughed and traded stories with Henry about their early days in the Men of Letters before they met. That inevitably drifted back to trading stories about their childhoods. She remained steadfast in sidestepping the car accident that killed her parents when she was twelve but managed to let him in on her years as an orphan working in a diner because she'd lied about her age. Being tall for a girl helped in that regard. Then she described being adopted at fourteen by the family who led her into the Men of Letters. Of course, her adoptive father was gone too. She was alone well and good but truthfully so accustomed to independence that she never gave it much thought anymore. Henry listened with rapt attention as they occasionally paused for a sip of wine or a bite of roast turkey or sirloin.

Then came stories of the Winchester line, which sounded like Men of Letters royalty compared to her background. She found herself sitting with straighter posture and holding her wineglass by the stem as would have been expected in the presence of a dynastic prince. Henry's life had been laid out before him at birth like every prince in every fairy tale she read as a little girl. Marrying Millie straight out of high school was as much expected as it was desired. Josie tried to imagine him at eighteen, mentally erasing sparse age lines from around his eyes and adding a bit of baby fat around the line of his jaw. Maybe his eyes were a little greener back then.

"We've all arrived in the Letters by destiny, I think," he said while they waited for the check. "Look at your story. You weren't a blood legacy but you became one by the turns of fortune in your life. I was aligned from the start." A light shrug lifted the breadth of his shoulders as he spread his hands. "Who's to say one path here was more valid than another?"

"You may have a point." The wine had Josie feeling looser and she thought of her past without that biting pain in her belly. "In any case, I must discover where my path is taking me quickly. Initiation approacheth, in a few years anyway. I don't have a home waiting for me like you do."

"You could. There's a great deal of time between now and initiation," Henry pointed out, not unkindly. "The next turn in your road could be waiting for you back in Illinois already. We're headed back in a few weeks." It seemed the wine had him feeling looser too. He leaned on the table, making the white button-down shirt tighten around his arms and shoulders far too pleasantly to be that close to her. "I cannot say I'll miss the bunker much but I will miss the companionship found in like-mindedness and shared passions."

Josie swallowed dryness in her throat and reached for the last swig of wine. "Is the Men of Letters really a passion?"

"It can be," he said, more to himself than her.

Another bout of comfortable silence descended on their outing once Henry paid the bill and they left the restaurant. The rain had stopped but only just so as it dripped from trees and awnings along the way. He suggested they walk to the movie theater, which suited Josie, letting her keep at least two or three feet of distance between them. Sitting in the car again felt claustrophobic if she thought about it too much.

So Josie contented herself with walking alongside Henry, passing underneath old refurbished gaslights casting globes of light on the sidewalks. Puddles shined in oblong shapes on the pavement. Fog curled and rolled in the distance as if insulating the town square from prying eyes of the outside world. She clasped her hands behind her back and enjoyed the sensation of her crinoline rustling in the breeze. Inky dark lines and wet, papery shapes overhead painted jagged pictures of wet trees against the cloudy night sky. A slow, thin smile opened her features. It was indeed better to be with Henry in the open where she knew she couldn't let temptation control her.

They came to the box office, which was rather crowded for a Tuesday night, but Josie was thankful for the people. As in the restaurant, it provided enough insulation between Henry and her to keep unwelcome emotions under control.

"How on earth can you eat anything more?" she asked laughingly when he bought popcorn drizzled in a ridiculous amount of butter. Even then, he bought a box of little chocolates and shoved them into his right jacket pocket as if saving the treasure for later.

Henry grinned over at her, making it painfully obvious how close their seats were together. "I'm not eating alone, you know. Nobody should enjoy the silver screen without popcorn."

"And the chocolates?" Brow arched, Josie pointed at the jacket pocket.

Color rose at the highest points of his cheekbones. "All right, I have a secret."

Josie leaned forward a fraction of an inch, expectation in her eyes.

"I have a box under my bed on the floor in the barracks," he confessed with a teasing grin. "There are various kinds of chocolates hidden there. For emergencies, you know."

Thinking of Henry huddled near his bed with a hidden box of scattered collected candy had Josie in fits of laughter, which infected him with laughter too. More color rose in his cheeks and it occurred to her that a serious man like him never thought he should have fun. He took on burdens for other people on the internal promise that he'd be rewarded in the afterlife for his dutiful nature. Still laughing, softer then, Josie grasped his wrist and managed to convey in a lighter tone that he shouldn't hide his chocolate habit like a secret. Even the keepers of the unknown were allowed to be human. Henry, grinning a bit, shrugged a little and let her advice roll off his back.

"I heard this movie is excellent," he commented in an ungraceful and abrupt change of subject, rather unwilling to discuss his inability to let himself have fun.

Josie nodded. "Grace Kelly is wonderful in everything she does."

The lights dimmed and brightened in a warning for movie patrons to take their seats. Josie fell silent, though her throat clogged with so many things Henry needed to understand. How could he not know how hard he worked, even for his wife and child at such a distance? How could he not feel the weight of his worth and pause long enough to look back and see how far he came with his education, his work in the unseen world? Most importantly, why did he have to skim over the surface of emotion, lacking the courage to admit parts of his life stood blown apart with gaping holes into the void like the fabled no man's land? She avoided casting the slightest gaze at his profile. The fear of him seeing through her and seeing through the desire to teach him to love himself more kept her eyes on the floor until the overwhelming mixed up emotions washed out to sea again with her inner tides.

A popcorn bag knocked into her arm. She jumped, startled, and awoke from her daze only to see the house lights had faded to black. Silver reflected off Henry's eyes from the movie screen. He looked over at her and pulled a face when he realized he almost threw popcorn into her lap.

"Sorry," he whispered over the flickering newsreel. "I thought you'd want some popcorn before it's gone."

Josie's closed mouth tugged into a strained smile. "Thanks. You ate all this already?" she whispered back. She took the bag by the edge of the paper to avoid getting her fingertips greasy.

"You know how the bunker kitchens are." The wry smile said it all.

Being utterly stuffed from dinner didn't help but Josie decided to snack on the popcorn just to give herself something to do. Once the Grace Kelly movie got underway, she hoped she could escape into the flickering silver images and the wonderful story rather than hedging thoughts about Henry's arm, warm through his jacket, pressed up against her bare arm. A seat between them might have been better for her sanity. The popcorn didn't taste like anything except lukewarm cardboard coated in butter, yet she kept up a slow, almost hypnotic pace with it as the newsreel ended.

"I'm having a good time," said Henry, leaning into her shoulder just a bit. "I might forget to thank you for being my accomplice tonight but it's been worth the lost hours of study."

"You're right. It's been worth the escape plot. I'm having a good time too." Josie gave him a warmer smile that didn't require so much effort to hide. Music swelled through the theater and sent a pleasant rumble through the floor and the chair beneath her. She started to relax again.

The movie engrossed them both, thankfully, but Josie's awareness of Henry lounging beside her never completely dropped out from the back of her mind. Grace Kelly portrayed Princess Alexandra, the daughter of another princess whose regal life in 1910 was in trouble. It was up to Alexandra to make a good marriage with a distant cousin, who, it seemed, had no interest in her or any other courtship. The story was a romantic comedy that Josie found herself enjoying and found herself even more surprised that Henry chose it.

She watched as Princess Alexandra was urged by her mother to accept Prince Albert so their family could regain a throne taken from them by Napoleon. Her mother urged her to play interest in another man, a commoner who tutored her brother, but the plan backfired when the tutor and the princess really fell in love. When she confessed her game to the tutor, however, his hurt couldn't keep him with her. Suddenly a movie Josie was enjoying turned into something that made her uncomfortable as she watched the only man Princess Alexandra ever loved walk away because of her secrets. She saw it coming long before it happened. Alexandra would end up accepting the prince after all, even if they didn't love each other, because they couldn't speak the truth to the people they really loved.

Henry suddenly shifted in his chair about two-thirds of the way through the movie, briefly stretching forward to loosen his back injury. His brow wrinkled with concentration as he tried to watch the movie while stretching forward without attracting too much attention.

"It's dark in here," Josie whispered, leaning closer, concerned.

"Hm?" He glanced back at her.

She offered a sympathetic smile. "No one can see you. Don't worry about being discreet about your back."

"Oh," he murmured, perhaps even a little embarrassed. "I really should make an appointment with the Letters doctor. It's just not getting any better." Twisting to the left and then the right, which brought his face rather close to hers, seemed to relieve his stiffness. A slight sigh passed between his lips.

It took everything Josie had not to reach out and rub her palm there--just there along his middle back--and snuff out his pain. She watched him watching the movie until he leaned back again and settled in beside her.

Falling in love with him happened in such a gradual progression that never gave her a hint or any means of defending herself against the landslide. She never stood a chance. If she'd felt tectonic plates shifting beneath her feet, she could have grabbed onto something to rescue herself before the ground crumbled away. But it was too late. She awoke one morning buried alive. The earth had given way and piled overtop of her without her ever noticing Henry standing over her proverbial grave with a smile, shining green eyes, and a shovel.

Neither of them were at fault, really, but Josie felt culpability strangling her in a noose the more she struggled to get away. Respectable women didn't allow married men to burrow into their souls and they certainly didn't make moves to pull them away from their wives. It didn't matter that Millie Winchester shared nothing of her husband's passions or his work. It didn't matter that Josie understood the intimacies of his doubts, triumphs, and failures in studying the supernatural even if those things were her life too. They shared more in Kansas than Mr. and Mrs. Winchester did in Illinois and there were moments between them edging on scandal but Josie wasn't a stupid woman. Henry wasn't there for the taking. Still, nobody remembered to tell her heart, and her soul certainly didn't read the rulebook either.

Josie counted herself a doomed woman. Leaving the Men of Letters wouldn't help anything either. Once she took a six month sabbatical in an effort to exorcise the demon, so to speak, but she realized Henry was with her no matter how far she went. He was in the way Clark Gable appreciated well-crafted suits. He was in every note of band music slowly going out of style. He was in the green of a dress she couldn't wear anymore because it reminded her of the last time they escaped for some fun--an afternoon at Coney Island up north. Nothing Josie did could cut her free of Henry.

The only thing left for her to do was coexist with it. She lived on the briefest smiles meant only for her and she let them plug up the void in her heart one by one like stacking bricks in a doorway. Her eyes slid over to the profile beside her etched in silver light reflecting the story on his features of the woman onscreen who had to settle for security rather than passion. Learning to love in silence was harder than losing her parents, than facing the whole of the undocumented supernatural universe alone, but what choice was there? It had to be Henry's choice to turn to her but she read the sense of honor and duty in him like reading the deep lines marking the palm of his hand.

No, Henry wasn't likely to turn to her. And she knew she couldn't love him that way if he sought her flesh while tied to another woman. Part of Josie loathed the honor and duty coursing through them both. Those were ingredients in the spell Henry put on her, yet those were the elements keeping them from touching each other too.

But, God help her, Josie would fully surrender if only to feel like she belonged to Henry for a moment. She wouldn't regret it, not like he inevitably would. Instead, she'd live on it for the rest of her life.

And so, all she knew for certain was saying I love you in her own private ways. Josie would dedicate herself to protecting Henry at the cross sections of their lives for the remainder of his existence. She'd entwine I love you into helping him write scholarly material all Men of Letters were required to contribute. If he looked hard enough, he'd find I love you in her entreaties for him to take better care of his health. There would even be I love yous in reminding him to set aside time for Millie and sweet baby John, because even if it shredded her soul to do so, it was better for Henry to be rooted in homefires. The innocent child needed a father for life--the father she couldn't find for herself as a little girl.

Perhaps her love would fade in time but she doubted it. Henry buried Josie alive the first time she ever laid eyes on him. Now she was knitted to him, silent and devoted, and there was no escape.


End file.
